Chapter 2

I was a well-known, arrogant heir of Graymore's casino tycoon. Anything I wanted, I would get, and that included Clara.

We had a high-profile relationship, and the public speculated that the great Eric Miller would get tired of this low-income student within three months. No one knew that Clara was my first love, and I had given my heart to her.

Even though Clara had nothing back then, she loved me with her whole heart. To convince my father to agree to our relationship, she knelt outside the Millers' for three whole days in the rain and swore that she would treat me wholeheartedly and never hurt me.

I was a proud man who would constantly lose my temper at her. Every time I did that, she would crawl into my arms lovingly yet helplessly, coaxing me with her gentle voice until I was happy.

This was until Clara climbed up the ladder in the business world to become one of the latest powerhouses in Graymore. She became increasingly busy, and even canceled our appointment to try on our wedding dress and suit.

I was furious, and I smashed an antique tea set in her study, waiting expectantly for her to coax me as she always did. However, this time, Clara's face fell, and she slammed the door on her way out.

The first day of our fight, I texted her: [No one is helping me warm my hands when you aren't home. They feel so cold.]

On the third day, I sent her a one-minute voice note to tell her that I missed her, and on the tenth day, I called her dozens of times for a video call.

However, she did not reply to any of them, and I started to panic on the 15th day she gave me the cold shoulder.

I had never done a day of housework before this, and I started to learn how to cook for her. I cut my hands and burned them in the process, but I felt it was a mark of my love for her.

When I went to see Clara, Emma stopped me outside her office. "Ms. Hall won't be seeing anyone at this time, Mr. Miller. Please don't make this difficult for me."

Her forehead was covered in sweat, and she kept sneaking glances through the crack of the door anxiously.

"Won't see anyone? Don't you know who I am? Are you even stopping me from seeing her?" I kicked open her office door without hesitation. "How big-headed have you become, Clara…"

I could not even finish my sentence because I was stunned by what I saw. The office was filled with a sticky, sensual scent in the air. Several half-transparent, lacy pieces of lingerie were flung on the floor, and Clara was lying on her office desk, looking disheveled.

Behind the desk was a good-looking man, whose face was flushed. He was grinding his crotch between Clara's legs again and again. The man's voice quivered as he laughed in a low voice. "Clara… We're still in the office. Can't you hold it in…?"

"Stop moving. Be good, and let me kiss you." Clara's voice was filled with lust and sweetness. It had been a long time since I heard her speaking to me that way.

Clara would always claim to be busy at home. She did not have time to listen to me playing the piano, and had no time to have a meal with me. It turned out she only did not have time when it came to me.

The man jumped when he heard the door being kicked open, and he instinctively hid behind Clara.

I could feel my blood pumping into my brain. Was every third party in this world gifted in playing the victim?

Ten years ago, that bitch acted exactly the same way. She intruded on my family with her illegitimate son in tow, hiding behind my father and crying pitifully. Her appearance angered my mother so much that she got sick after that, and never got better, and she passed away in the end.

I swore in front of her grave that I would never end the same way as she did.

The first thing I did was to dash forward to grab him by the hair, and I slammed him to the ground before raising my hand to slap him hard.

"What are you doing, Eric?!"

Clara pushed me away, and the thermal container in my hand fell to the ground. I could not avoid being splashed with hot soup, and a piece of the broken container slashed my cheek. Blood dripped down from the cut, and the anger on Clara's face turned into panic.

She quickly came over to cup my face in her hands, and she kissed away the blood dripping from it.

How pathetic it was that I felt lucky to have won the fight for Clara's heart at that moment.

Clara sent Zayn away after that, and I pressed Clara down on the sofa that afternoon in a fit of passion. However, Clara pushed me away at the crucial moment, claiming that it was not a convenient time for her.

I did not think much of it, as I thought Zayn was just a boy toy Clara kept for a few days because we were in a fight.

That was until Zayn invited me to meet at a cafe with a look of hatred on his face. "It's been ten years, Eric Miller. I guess you've already forgotten about me."